Unsuitable
by ThePrincessTigerLily
Summary: Summer Hathaway has problems when it comes to unsuitable boys...


So…I just re-watched School of Rock and was intrigued with the idea of Freddy/Summer…they're so Draco/Hermione-ish!

Disclaimer: I do not own School of Rock

Summer Hathaway was always falling for unsuitable boys. This unsavory track record began in kindergarten, when the object of her affection was a small snub-nosed boy named Willie Henderson. He was the scourge of the playground and was sent outside almost every day for the heinous crime of eating play dough. Despite this failing, Summer would follow him like a puppy and even when he ripped her fairy costume on Halloween, she continued to admire him and share her goldfish with him. However, after kindergarten, Willie was sent to a "special" school and that was that.

Fifth grade was the year of Mr. S. Although Summer didn't look back on that year with pride, she admitted that she has felt some sort of romantic admiration for Mr. S. He'd been cool and different, and had chosen HER to be the band manager. She found herself constantly trying to impress him, and blushed like a small child whenever he complimented her. Eventually though, she began seeing him not as the desirable and dangerous Mr. S., but merely as Dewey, the lead singer of School of Rock.

Unfortunately, the band, which stayed together through high school, had proven to be the worst distraction of all. Here she was, in the spring of her senior year. Colleges had been applied for (Yale, Harvard and Brown; naturally) and she had her life planned down to the curtains in her first apartment. It made a certain sort of sense, she supposed, that just when she was getting ready to spread her wings, she fell for the most unsuitable boy of all: Freddy Jones.

Freddy was everything Summer despised. Most of the boys she dated in high school were almost freakishly perfect. All were headed to Ivy-League schools and usually held some sort of important position at school. They got straight A's and volunteered in the community on weekends. Freddy though…Freddy was messy, his uniform always un-tucked and his hair in messy, barely-better-than-bedhead spikes. He could've gotten good grades if he'd tried…but he really didn't care that much. He mostly just liked playing drums and hanging out with the rest of the band. Summer had never seen Freddy walk an old lady across the street, much less volunteer to help the less fortunate.

Normally Summer would've dismissed this as yet another crush, but the strange attraction had lasted four years and was still going strong. As much as she told herself it wouldn't work…well, she hoped. Which was why she was standing in a ridiculously short skirt at Zack's 18th birthday party clutching a cup of God-knows-what alcohol determined to just get herself sloshed so she wouldn't remember anything. Like how good Freddy looked in his beat up Boston shirt. Or how he kept flirting with all the girls at the party. Or how she'd practically confessed her feelings to him exactly 14 minutes and 47 seconds ago.

* * *

Zack's birthday had promised to be the highlight of the band's senior year. The Mooneyham house was exactly the right sort for parties. The open rooms and pool, combined with killer music and Zack's popularity (the fact that he was the lead guitarist in a semi-famous band didn't hurt his social life) made for the most excellent birthdays. At first, Summer wasn't even planning on going. After all, AP tests were only months away, and she had plenty to do. However, just as she had decided that she was NOT going, she found herself almost nose to nose with Freddy Jones. As usual, he looked as if he was up to no good. His uniform was disheveled and his bag was shedding tablatures. He also looked extremely appealing.

"So, Summer…are you going to Mooneyham's party?" he asked, leaning casually against her locker. Summer fully intended to say no, but whether it was his scent (a woodsy, distinctive boy smell), his eyes (a melty chocolate brown), or his closeness, she found herself saying,

"Of course I'll be there," She blurted.

"Great…I guess I'll see you later tonight," he said, smirking at her and heading off to class like they had these types of encounters everyday. She just watched him dumbly, and hoped he hadn't heard the Keith Moon drum solo that had made a sudden appearance near the left side of her chest. Summer knew then that it was time to take extreme measures. She couldn't go on like this. She was a wreck. She spent half her time dreaming of Freddy talking to her, and the other half saying stupid things when he was around. So, for the first time in her life, Summer Hathaway ditched school. Granted, it was only Study Hall, but she reasoned a girl had to start somewhere.

The entire time she was paranoid someone would see her, or worse, she would run into her parents, but no one even seemed to care that a petit, dark-haired girl was wandering through the mall at 1:45 p.m. on a Friday. She eventually settled on the perfect outfit, and then rushed home to get ready. She thought briefly about curling her hair, but then decided to leave it straight, since she was too nervous to properly use the curling iron. As a result of the skipping, she ended up being ready about an hour before the party, which led to dithering about whether she was wearing the right top, or whether her skirt was too slutty. Eventually, she found herself at Zack's party, awkwardly trying to make conversation with Katie and Marta.

She was instantly aware of him the moment he walked into the room. She adjusted the already perfectly straight straps of her black halter, and tried to pretend she hardly noticed him. However, she managed to discreetly follow him with her eyes until he finally made his way to where she was standing. She quickly downed a cup of whatever it was that Katie had given her. She waited while he said hi to everyone, and then he finally turned to her.

"Hey Summer. I…uh…like your top," he said, fidgeting a little. Summer tried to think of a clever response but only managed to come up with,

"Thanks…I like your shirt." She'd recognized the shirt as one he'd bought on impulse at the Boston concert last summer. It was a little faded, but he managed to pull it off with his usual I-really-have-no-idea-how-deliciously-sexy-I-am type way. Although pretty much everything he wore made him look like that. _Or didn't wear_, she thought, thinking of the beach trip they'd taken that same summer. Lost in these musings, she was a little surprised when Freddy broke the silence.

"So, I didn't think you'd even be here tonight. You didn't seem that excited last week at practice when we were planning it," he ran a hand through his messy hair. "I'm glad you did come. These parties are never as fun when you're not here," he finished. Summer wondered if she'd imagined him saying that. She'd certainly done that before. However, she could still see him standing there, holding his blue glass (Zack's parents wouldn't allow plastic cups at their parties, even if it was for alcohol).

"Well, it is Zack's birthday. I couldn't not show up," she said. The alcohol was making her feel bold and reckless. So she drank more. Which was the only explanation she could think of later when she tried to rationalize her actions. At the time, it had seemed perfectly natural to put her hand on his arm and murmur, "Besides, I knew you were going to be here." For a brief, shining moment, she thought he was going to sweep her into his arm and kiss her passionately, all the while declaring his undying love…but instead he removed her hand from his arm and said in a slightly unsteady voice,

"Summer, I think maybe you should slow down on those drinks. They're not virgin, you know?" Then he was moving away from her towards the rest of the party. Summer just gaped after him. She had just confessed her feelings to the boy she'd liked for the past four years, and he told her to slow down on the booze. Heartbreak didn't really seem like the appropriate word at the moment. Heart crushing, or heart steamrolling maybe. Since she was in a public place, she decided crying wasn't an option, and instead opted for shouting at his retreating back,

"I can drink as much as I please Freddy Jones! I don't need your permission anyway!" and proceeded to have another.

* * *

That was how she ended up by herself at Zack Mooneyham's birthday in an expensive skirt and a blue glass. Technically, she knew this wasn't a good idea. She knew that drinking made people act stupid. she usually spent these parties with soda, but tonight anything that would make her forget a certain unsuitable boy was good enough. Just as she'd downed her third cup (or was it her fourth…she couldn't remember) she noticed said unsuitable boy weaving towards her, bobbing slightly to one of Lawrence's Zeppelin remixes playing in the background.

"Summer?" he asked, looking worried, "how many of those have you had?" Normally, his concern would be touching, but this was the boy who had danced on her heart with hobnailed boots. Summer just blinked at him.

"Summer, I'm serious," he took the drink gently from her hand and set it on the table next to them. Summer narrowed her eyes. She could understand him not feeling the same way as she did, but taking her drink was too much, especially when he was looking particularly delectable. So she drew herself up to her full height and said,

"Freddy Jones, You have made it perfectly clear that you do not return the feelings I feel for you that I have felt since our Freshman year. I can understand that, I mean, it isn't like I've ever made any sort of declaration, and I tried dating anti-you type people for awhile, but that just reminded me of you, so I decided to tell you I liked you. Especially since you look sexy in your Boston shirt. Only you don't like me back. So I think, considering these circumstances, I am perfectly within my rights to get sloshed." She thought, given her current state of intoxication, that it was a pretty good speech. She couldn't tell what Freddy was thinking though, since he'd gone quiet. Finally, she looked up into his melted chocolate eyes, and found him looking back at her with an intensity that she'd never seen in his eyes before. It felt like a long time before Freddy finally said,

"Summer, I think that you don't know what you're saying. Maybe tomorrow when you sober up, you'll realize that this wasn't…I mean,…it's not like I don't like you…but I know you're not going to remember this or anything…and I don't want you liking me after drinking four cups of…" Somewhere around the middle of his speech, Summer realized desperate times called for desperate measures. So she cut off his ramblings by kissing him rather fervently.

As kisses go, it probably wasn't the greatest. It was a little sloppy and a little wet, and tasted a little like alcohol. However, to Summer, none of that mattered, because _Freddy was kissing back!_ When he finally pulled back (seconds, minutes, or hours later?) he looked a little dazed.

"Summer…I," he trailed off. The two of them just stood there staring at each other again. Finally, Summer broke the silence and said,

"Freddy, do you like me? I mean, _like_ me?" Summer was a little disappointed to hear how the question had come out. She was, after all, expecting a high grade on her English AP test. However, it seemed to be the right question, because suddenly Freddy just seemed to explode.

"Only since, like, kindergarten! You liked that stupid Henderson though, and never even looked at me. To be fair though, I actually started liking you, the real you, last year. You're just so funny and smart and cute and I like the way you manage the band and eat ice cream and hold your pencil and…yeah, I like you," he finished. Now it was Summer's turn to be dazed. She could really only think of one question.

"Well, then why did you stop kissing me?" Freddy smiled then, a smile that reached all the way to his eyes, and replied,

"I guess we'll have to fix that." Their next kiss was a lot less sloppy and a lot more passionate. When they finally had to pull back for air, Freddy had a question.

"You're going to be my girlfriend, right? I'm warning you now Hathaway, I don't want a drunken hookup. I want it all. The staying up late and talking, the trips to boring places just so we can hold hands…the stirring impromptu renditions of 'Memory,' the whole enchilada." Summer grinned, saying,

"Only if you'll teach me to play drums."

* * *

Looking back, Summer never would have pictured a romantic confession at a noisy party when she was half-drunk and desperate. But Freddy had always been one to turn her ideas about what should be upside down. He was completely unsuitable, and that suited her just fine.

* * *

Reviews make me smile! 


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